Against the Fire (24 page)

“You know how I feel. I’ve made no secret of it.”

There’d been newspaper articles, TV interviews, a neighborhood movement to stop Gabe from getting the permits he needed. But another group just as adamantly wanted the project to succeed.

“The residents who live in the neighborhood have spent a great deal of money on their properties,” Webster continued. “They don’t want the class of people you’ll be renting to living just down the block. It isn’t good for property values. The fair thing would be for you to sell.”

Gabe just shook his head. He’d worked too hard on the project to give it up now. Aside from that, he didn’t believe in Webster’s concept. Greenwood wasn’t some skid-row development. The apartments wouldn’t have marble-floored entries or bidets in the bathrooms, but they were well-designed and were going to be extremely attractive.

“Sorry, Webster. Whatever you might have believed, Greenwood isn’t for sale.”

Webster’s perfectly groomed features tightened. “Whatever you say. But if your firebug strikes again and Greenwood burns to the ground, don’t expect my price to be the same.”

Gabe’s jaw clenched as the man walked away. He made a mental note to mention the encounter to Thomas Daily. In that same vein, as Webster pulled his flashy Mercedes away from the curb, he clicked open his cell and phoned his brother.

“I’ve got another name I want you to check on,” Gabe said.

“Yeah? You’re still thinking Clay might not be your guy?”

“I just want to be sure.”

“I hear ya. Fire away.”

Gabe told his brother about his encounter with wealthy Carlton Webster and his latest offer to buy the apartments. “Webster figured, since I’d been having so much trouble, I’d be happy to get rid of the place. When I told him I wasn’t interested, he wished me the worst. Said after the place burned down, his offer wouldn’t be nearly as good.”

“Let the cops know. In the meantime, I’ll check him out.”

“Thanks.”

“Listen, I was getting ready to call you anyway. First, about that text message you got…”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“The guy who sent it might be telling the truth. Maybe he didn’t set the fire at Artie’s Men’s Wear.”

“Don’t stop now, I’m all ears.”

“Lucille Roser was the beneficiary of a big fat life insurance policy on the death of her dear departed husband. She’s also in line for the insurance proceeds from the destruction of the building. Combined, it adds up to a very hefty sum.”

“How hefty?”

“Seven figures. The life insurance policy was for three million. Artie took it out about a year ago.”

“You’re saying it just might be coincidence that Raines Construction did the remodel?”

“You know how much I believe in coincidence.”

“About as much as you believe in unicorns.”

Dev laughed. “You gotta figure, if Lucille read the newspapers or even watched the news on TV, she’d know about the fires and that the police have speculated that you, personally, were the target. It makes the arson on her building a lot more believable if the police think it’s just another hit on you.”

And it would explain Lucy’s little celebration two days after her husband’s death. “You’re figuring she hired a torch, someone who would take care of poor Artie and cover it up with a fire.”

“Lots of people out there who make that kind of thing their business. Whoever she hired could have dug up whatever info he could find on how the fires on your buildings were set then tried to make it look like the same doer.”

Gabe blew out a breath, praying his brother was right. If Lucy had arranged the fire, Gabe was in no way responsible for Artie’s death.

“Captain Daily called this morning,” he said. “He was right about the text message coming from a throwaway phone. They didn’t come up with a thing.”

“Figures.”

“Stay on this, will you, Dev?”

“You know I will.”

Gabe flipped his phone closed and no more than shoved it into his pocket when his Brooks and Dunn ringtone started and he pulled it out and flipped it open again.

Jackson’s voice came over the line. “What’s the latest and how are you holding up?”

“I’m fine. They arrested Clay Sanders last night.”

“How’d that happen?”

“If you could see the bruises on my face, you’d know.”

Jackson chuckled.

“Actually, after we pummeled each other into hamburger, the lady I was with took him down with a beer bottle over the head.”

“I take it this wasn’t the straitlaced little architect you were seeing.”

“Actually, it was. The lady’s just full of surprises.”

“Interesting. Cops think Clay set the fires?”

“They’re pretty much convinced.”

“What about the boy? Angel, wasn’t it? Did Clay assault the kid?”

“I don’t know. If Clay wanted him out of the way, he’d be dead. Of course, he could have just meant to scare the kid into keeping his nose out of things and hurt the boy worse than he intended.”

“You still don’t sound totally convinced Clay’s your man.”

“Not completely.”

“Then maybe it’s a good thing I called. You know that contractor, the guy you butt heads with all the time?”

“Vance Gleason?”

“That’s the guy. I did a little checking, no stone unturned and all that. Looks like Gleason’s about to go bankrupt. On top of that, his wife’s giving him the boot.”

“How the hell did you find that out? Never mind. Google, right?”

“Bingo.”

“Vance lost the bid on McKinney Court. Also lost out on the Towers. Still, it seems pretty far-fetched to think he’d blame me because he’s going broke.”

“Just thought you ought to know.”

“Thanks. Like you say, no stone unturned.”

“Listen, maybe once this is over, Sarah and I can come down and meet your lady. Sounds like my kinda woman.”

The kind who would try to protect him against a guy as tough as Clay. Gabe still couldn’t quite believe it.

“Maybe that would work.” They ended the call and Gabe thought of Mattie. His brother considered them a pair, but Mattie kept her emotions well guarded and he had no real idea what she felt for him, aside from the satisfaction she got from him in bed. Whatever she felt, she was scared to death of becoming too deeply involved.

Damn. What she didn’t know and he could hardly tell her was that he was scared spitless himself.

Twenty-Three

Tracy needed to talk to Mattie. She had tried calling her cell phone but the call had gone straight to voice mail. Figuring she was probably at the office, Tracy tried that number next, found her friend there and managed to convince her to take a break and meet her at the coffee kiosk in the Coffman Building lobby.

“I thought you took the week off,” Tracy said as she carried two paper cups over to the small wire-mesh table, a cappuccino for Mattie and a mocha special Egyptian blend for herself.

“I did. I’m just working for a couple of hours. I’ve got some problems I need to take care of.”

“Right.” She handed the cappuccino to Mattie and settled herself in one of the chairs. “Listen, it’s Wednesday. I was thinking maybe we’d go down to Club Rio tonight. We haven’t been there in nearly three weeks.”

“Sorry, I can’t.” Mattie took a cautious sip of the scalding drink. “Gabe and I are going out to dinner. I’m taking him to Asian Fusion. I think he’ll like it. He’s discovering he likes a wider range of tastes than he thought.”

Tracy sipped her coffee. “Sounds like the two of you are getting pretty serious.”

Mattie shrugged. “Not really. I’m only staying with him until my vacation time is up. That’s the end of the week.”

Tracy took another sip. “Well, I think I’m going anyway.”

“Sam won’t mind?”

“We aren’t a couple, you know. So far our relationship is strictly platonic.”

“That’s too bad.”

“In a way, I guess. In another way it’s been nice. He’s really a sweet guy. I’m glad I had a chance to get to know him.”

“That sounds like past tense.”

Tracy looked away. “Maybe. I guess I’ll see what happens tonight.”

Mattie reached over and caught her hand. “Whatever you do, be sure you’re making the right decision. If Sam is really special, you might not want to lose him.”

Tracy ignored the heaviness in her chest. She wasn’t cut out for a serious relationship and that seemed to be where she was headed with Sam.

She remembered the terrible fights her parents had had, the beatings she and her mother had suffered. She didn’t need a man. She didn’t want one.

Not even Sam.

“I’ve got to get back to work.” Mattie stood up. “Thanks for the cappuccino. You know it’s my favorite.” She held up the cup, which she planned to take back with her.

“You’re welcome. Your treat next time.”

“Be careful tonight.”

“I’m always careful.” But Tracy was less sure what she really wanted to do than she had ever been before.

She thought of Sam’s sweet laugh, the wicked glint in his warm brown eyes when he looked at her. Sam made her wonder if maybe she was wrong, if there really could be such a thing as happily ever after.

Tracy shook her head. Who was she kidding? Sam was no different from any other man she had known.

Returning to her office, she made some client calls, dropped some loan applications off at the mortgage company, showed a house and finally went home.

Eventually it was time to dress for the evening and she chose one of her sexiest outfits, a flashy hot-pink leather miniskirt and matching vest that closed with only three buttons up the front and required no bra.

Club Rio was packed by the time she pushed through the doors, filled with the sounds of laughter and the clinking of glasses. The karaoke singer on stage finished a slow Sinatra song and drew an unenthusiastic round of applause. Tracy searched for a friendly face, spotted a girl she knew—another real estate agent who was sitting at a table full of men.

“Hey, Tracy!” Heather waved her over. “I’m glad you’re here. I can use a little help.” She grinned and tipped her head toward the table full of admirers.

Tracy laughed as one of them jumped up and pulled out a chair. As she sat down, her gaze unconsciously went to the bar in search of Sam, but he wasn’t there. She didn’t expect the tug of disappointment. She was out on the town tonight and she was ready to party.

“Bring the lady a Cosmo,” one of the guys at the table said. “Make it a double.” He was handsome and well-built, the kind of man she might have taken home. Tonight the thought was strangely unappealing.

The evening progressed. Tracy drank a couple of double Cosmos but her mood didn’t improve. One of the guys told a dirty joke and she forced herself to laugh. Then her eyes strayed toward the bar for the tenth time that night and there he was.

Her breath caught.

Sam leaned against the bar, his gaze fixed on her face. An empty beer bottle sat in front of him, which meant he had been there a while. Been there and just stood watching.

He raised the bottle he was drinking from in a silent salute, finished it off, set it back down on the bar and started for the door.

Tracy felt sick to her stomach.

Her hand trembled as she pushed back her chair. Her legs were shaking so badly, she could barely get them to move. Once she did, the door seemed miles away.

“Hey, Tracy,” the handsome guy Nick called out. “Where you goin’?”

Tracy didn’t bother to answer, just kept moving toward the door.

In the parking lot, she spotted Sam’s flashy red pickup. He hadn’t reached it yet, but he was walking with purpose and she knew if she didn’t stop him, she would never see him again.

“Sam! Sam, wait!” She hurried faster, stumbled and almost fell. “Sam, please, wait!”

Her eyes filled. She had to reach him before it was too late. “Sam, please.” She couldn’t see him anymore through the haze of her tears. She didn’t realize he had spotted her, stopped and turned, until she slammed into him.

“Sam…”

He gripped her shoulders. “What do you want, Tracy? You’ve got half a dozen men in there willing to take you home.”

The tears in her eyes spilled over, began to roll down her cheeks. “I don’t want them.”

“What do you want, then?” He pushed her up against the door of his truck. “You want me to fuck you right here? Because I’m sure as hell ready.”

She had never seen him so angry. She should have been frightened. She didn’t understand why she was not. “I don’t…don’t want it like that. Not with you.”

“No? I think you do.”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat and shook her head, her straight blond hair sliding around her cheeks. “No, I… I don’t know… I just… I don’t want you to go, Sam.”

Some of his anger faded. Very gently he eased her into his arms. “I think I know what you want.” He reached down and took hold of her hand. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

She clung to his arm, dashed the tears from her cheeks. “Where are we going?”

“My house.”

She didn’t fight him, just let him help her into his truck, snap her seat belt across her lap and close the door. She leaned back against the seat as he drove out of the parking lot.

She had no idea what would happen when they reached his place. But the sense of relief she was feeling told her going after him had been the right decision.

She had never been to Sam’s apartment and as she walked in she discovered it was tidy and nicely decorated in dark, masculine colors. She didn’t have much time to look around since he led her straight to the bedroom, turned her into his arms, and very thoroughly kissed her.

She was breathless when he stopped. Tracy slid her arms around his neck. “What if this ruins everything?”

“If it does, there was nothing there worth keeping anyway.”

She knew he was right, yet the comfortable feeling she’d always had when she was with him began to fade. It was time for her to perform. She reached for the buttons on his shirt and started unfastening them, but Sam eased her hand away.

“We’ll get to that eventually, just not yet.”

She looked up at him, a little nervous, and also intrigued. More so as he slowly began to undress her, kissing each part of her body as he removed each piece of her clothing. Every time she reached for him, Sam shook his head and simply kissed her. She was on fire by the time he had her naked, lifted her into his arms and carried her over to the bed.